


Diet Soda

by lovemesomewalking



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 05:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11571519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovemesomewalking/pseuds/lovemesomewalking
Summary: Kenny thought about meeting Gary earlier that afternoon. He wondered if it had occurred to the other boy how gay the whole thing had been: the two of them sitting alone together behind their high school, singing a duet about teenage romance; or had it only occurred to him?





	Diet Soda

Detention for a week. That's what he got. Five days. One for each carton of eggs he’d thrown at Mr. Mackey's car. In the middle of the day. In the parking lot at school. With everyone around watching. Kenny hadn't remembered what he'd been thinking, but if there was one thing he was certain about now it was that he would never help Craig Tucker with anything ever again.

I mean, yeah, it seemed like a fun idea at the time, but man... fuck that kid.

He was lucky, really, I guess. Detention for a week wasn't as bad as getting suspended, which is what they did to Craig. They called his parents and everything. I mean, fuck, Kenny's dad would've beat the shit out of him. He wondered if Craig's dad was gonna beat the shit out of Craig tonight.

With the other boy gone, Kenny found himself facing Mr. Mackey alone. He shifted in his chair in front of the counselor's desk as Mackey screamed at him, only for his boredom to drown out the tirade. God, what was he still doing getting yelled at by this guy. He was in high school now. What was his elementary school counselor even doing here? What was all that bullshit about South Park High absorbing South Park Elementary's staff? Kenny vaguely remembered something about his old school closing down, because people in town had stopped having children, stopped years ago.

"You know what the fuck is wrong with you punks!" Mr. Mackey screamed at him. "You all think you're so damn coooooool! It's like, you, you find some ratty ass denim jacket in the trash and you think you're fuckin' James Dean!"

Kenny didn't like Mr. Mackey calling his denim jacket ratty; and he hadn't found it in the trash, he'd gotten it at Good Will, the same place he bought all his clothes. It did make him feel pretty cool though. A lot cooler than that dumb parka he used to wear, which he hadn't worn in 17 days and counting.

"James Dean wore a leather jacket," Kenny told Mr. Mackey, rolling his eyes. He looked back at the counselor to see his expression contort with rage, his face going so red that Kenny thought the man was going to have a fucking stroke or something.

Instead, Mr. Mackey grabbed Kenny out of his chair and threw him onto the floor. Clutching him by his denim jacket, he dragged the boy out of his office and out the front door of the school, dropping him at the entrance.

Kenny looked up to see Mr. Mackey standing over him.

"I hope you have a good weekend, McCormick -- 'cause next week your free time belongs to me! Fuckin' punk!" With that, he disappeared back into the school, the door slamming shut.

Kenny got up on his hands and knees. Seething at the front door of the school, he cried out in anger. 

"I hope you have a good weekend too!"

A flock of birds flew out of a nearby tree. After giving himself a minute to calm down, Kenny got up and brushed himself off.

He needed a soda after all that so he made his way to the vending machine by the bleachers out back and got one. He cracked it open and nearly drank half of it in one gulp. He looked out across the school's sports field. Looking at the green grass, he couldn't believe his sophomore year was almost over; or maybe he could. Who gives a shit, it's just high school. Not like he was going to college either.

Kenny lost his train of thought as he noticed the sound of an acoustic guitar playing nearby. Taking a closer listen, he traced the sound to the bleachers, where he found a blond boy wearing a clean white shirt and a navy blue cardigan, playing a Gibson F-25 Folksinger. Unaware of Kenny's presence, the boy started to sing.

"Years ago, my heart... was set to live... ohhh... But I've been tryin' haaaaard against.... unbeliiieeevable odds..."

Kenny could recognize the song he was singing. It was called "The Ballad of El Goodo" by Big Star. What the hell, Kenny fuckin' loved that band.

"It gets so hard, in tiiimes like now, to hooooooold on... My guns they wait to be stuck byyy... and at my side is God..."

The boy had a really nice voice -- angelic even. Kenny watched in silence as he reached the chorus, his voice soaring higher.

"And there aaaaain't nooooooo one goin' to tuuuuuuurn meeeeee 'round... ain't noooooooo one goin' to tuuuuurrrn meee 'round..."

Kenny waited until Gary had finished the song before deciding to make his presence known, clapping his hands and offering a round of applause. Startled, the boy looked up from his guitar at him.

Kenny walked over to where Gary was sitting. "Sick axe dude."

The boy smiled. "Oh, thanks! It used to be my dad's, but he doesn't really play it anymore."

"Are you that Mormon kid? Gary?"

"Yeah, I'm that Mormon kid," Gary said. "You're friends with Stan Marsh, right?"

"Yeah, I'm Kenny. You know Stan?"

"We're neighbors. We don't hang out though. His family is like, crazy."

"His dad kicked me in my head in the parking lot at Wholefoods a few years ago. I can't see some blues anymore."

"What color is my sweater?"

"Navy."

"It's turquoise."

Kenny felt embarrassed, like Gary had tricked him. "Why do you have a guitar, anyway. I thought Mormons weren't allowed to like music."

The boy looked at him, taken back by his attitude. "Don't be a jerk.”

Kenny felt embarrassed again, but this time by what he'd said. "I'm sorry."

“It’s okay. Like I said, it was my dad's. He used to play Mormon folk songs at church picnics but now he basically runs them so he doesn't really have time to play anymore."

Kenny took a seat next to Gary. "Does he miss it?”

“I dunno. I've never really asked him how he feels about it, I guess."

“How do you know Big Star?”

“Oh you know them too? Back when I decided I wanted to learn to play guitar, I bought some used records at Goodwill so I could practice by playing along with them.”

“I got this denim jacket at Goodwill.”

“Oh, cool. It looks really cool.”

“Thanks.”

“One of the records I got was the first Big Star one. Y’know, with the big star on the cover.”

“Yeah, I love that album.”

“Yeah, I don’t really listen to a lot of rock ’n’ roll, but I think their songs can be really moving. I like 'El Goodo' a lot, especially the religious themes. Y'know, 'At my side is God...’ Comparing the feeling that you're invincible to having the Lord behind you... it’s a powerful lyric."

Kenny had never thought about it that much before. "I think I read that it's about being drafted and not wanting to be in the army. What other songs on the album do you like?” he asked.

“Hmm..." Gary thought. "Well, ‘Thirteen’ is a lot of fun to play."

“That’s my favorite. Let me hear you play it."

Gary looked at him for a moment and chewed on his bottom lip, before he started to pick at his guitar strings and pluck out the opening notes of the song. Kenny grinned. Noticing his excitement, Gary laughed, a little bashful.

“Do you wanna sing it?” he asked.

Kenny knew he couldn’t sing as well as Gary, and trying would have left him feeling embarrassed again. “Nah my voice sucks, he said. “You sing it.”

“Alright hang on.” Gary cleared his throat as he finished the song’s intro, before starting to sing.

“Wonchya let me… walk you home from school… Wonchya let me… meet you at the poooooooooooooool… Maaaaybe friiiiiday I can… get tickets for the daaaance…”

He wasn’t lying about his voice being shitty, but Kenny still found himself joining in for the final lyric of the verse.

“And I’ll taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaake yoooooooouuuuu,” he harmonized with Gary. “Ooooooooh…”

Gary laughed, but kept playing. Kenny didn’t think he was laughing at his voice, so he laughed too.

“Hey,” Gary asked, “How about for this next part, I sing one part and you sing one part.”

“Okay, you go first.”

Gary started the second verse. “Wonchya tell your daaaad get off my back…”

“Tell him what we said ‘bout ‘Paint It Blaaaaaaaaaaaaack’,” Kenny answered, his voice going a little off key.

“Rock ‘n’ roll is here to staaaaay…”

“Come inside, where it’s okaaaay…”

They harmonized again. “And I’ll shaaaaaaaaaaaaaaake yoooooouuuuuuuu, ooooooohh….”

They both laughed. 

“That’s really cool that you can play guitar,” Kenny said. “I suck at instruments and stuff. I really love music though.”

“Me too. But I’ve never really listened to a lot before. I wanna listen to more now that I play guitar though."

"What are some other bands you listen to?"

"I dunno. I mean, like I said, I haven't listened to a lot of music. Are there any you'd recommend?"

Kenny thought about it for a moment. "You should listen to the Replacements. The dude from that band loves Alex Chilton; y'know, the guy from Big Star. He even named a song after him. Like, it's called 'Alex Chilton'."

"The Replacements?"

"Yeah. People call 'em the Mats for short."

"Shouldn't it be the Ments?"

"No it's the Mats."

"Why do people call them that?"

Kenny didn't know, he'd never looked it up for some reason. Saying it had honestly made him feel like a phony but he wanted to seem cool.

"Nobody really knows," he lied. "It's just like a thing."

"Do they sound like Big Star?"

"Kind of, but like, no? They're almost like a punk band, but they aren't really. They're from the 80s. They were like a really crazy band but they made great music."

"Okay, I'll check 'em out."

"Don't listen to their early stuff, I don't think you'll like it. They have a record called _Let It Be_ , listen to that one."

"I thought _Let It Be_ was by the Beatles."

"They have an album called that too, but the Replacements one is way better."

"Alright, cool," Gary said, getting up. "I gotta go home now. I'll check out that album though. If I see you Monday I'll let you know what I think."

"Cool. I've got like, detention every day next week so I'll probably be around after school."

"I've actually been hanging around after classes lately and just playing guitar out here. I'm out here most days so you can come by if you want."

"Yeah okay," Kenny said as Gary turned to start walking home. "I'll see you then."

"See you then!" the boy said as he walked away.

Kenny sat on the bleachers until Gary had gone. He realized he still had his can of soda and finished it.

* * *

Kenny lay on his bed, the setting sun outside the window the only source of dwindling light in his room. Still wearing his denim jacket, he stared up at the ceiling, hands clasped behind his head. A vinyl copy of Big Star's first album rotated soundlessly on his second-hand turntable, the needle having reached the end of side one about fifteen minutes ago. He thought about meeting Gary earlier that afternoon. He wondered if it had occurred to the other boy how gay the whole thing had been: the two of them sitting alone together behind their high school, singing a duet about teenage romance; or had it only occurred to him?

* * *

Kenny got out of detention Monday afternoon and made his way towards the bleachers behind the school, stopping on the way to get another soda. After buying one for himself, he thought about getting one for Gary too. He really didn't have the money for it, but fuck it, he was going to get a job this summer, so he dropped a few more coins into the machine and bought a soda for the other boy -- a diet one, since Gary was Mormon. He put them in his backpack and followed the sound of the Gibson F-25 Folksinger coming from the bleachers.

Kenny couldn't recognize the song Gary was playing as he approached. "Hey," he said.

Gary stopped playing guitar. "Hey," he said back. He didn't say anything else though. Kenny didn't really know what to say either, even though he'd been looking forward to seeing the boy again all weekend, for some reason. Awkwardly, he took a seat next to Gary as he started to play guitar again.

"So did you listen to the Replacements?" he asked.

"Yeah, I did" Gary replied.

"Well what did you think?"

The boy stopped playing again. "I dunno. I mean, I really liked their music. I listened to _Let It Be_ , like you said, and then I looked up some of their other songs; I listened to 'Alex Chilton' and 'Can't Hardly Wait'--"

"I love the horns on that one," Kenny interrupted.

"Yeah so did I. I listened to some songs from their album _Tim_ too. 'Left of the Dial' was one of my favorites."

"Yeah that one's got a lot of good songs. I'm glad you liked the band."

Gary looked down at his guitar and strummed it a few times, muting the strings at the top of its neck to keep it silent. "I mean, I guess I did. Their music was really good. But I dunno if I really like the band."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when I was looking up their music, I looked up some other stuff about the band, and they all sound like... I dunno… terrible guys. All the drugs and alcohol... they sound like such destructive people."

"I mean... I guess. That doesn't really make me like them any less though."

"I really didn't like reading about the singer. There was one part in an article I read that talked about this time their guitarist was trying to get sober, and before one of their concerts, the singer was trying to force him to get drunk. He actually held out a bottle of champagne to him and said--"

"Take a drink motherfucker, or get off my stage."

Garry was quiet for a moment. "Yeah. I don't really like that." He strummed his guitar soundlessly a few more times. "I looked up why people call them the Mats too. It was kinda dumb."

What Gary was saying was starting to make Kenny feel dumb himself. He felt like Gary was making fun of him or something.

"Well I still like their music," he said, trying not to sound defensive. "I don't care about that stuff."

"Yeah, I know, I just think it's a shame because, like... imagine all of the great music they could've made if they weren't drunk and high all the time."

Kenny tried to think of something to say that would make Gary feel as dumb as he did. 

"Yeah, well," he started, "Maybe if they weren't drunk and high all the time they've wouldn't have made all the great music that they did make."

Gary didn't say anything, he just sat there holding his guitar.

Kenny felt his face get hot. He didn't know what else to say to Gary so he went into his backpack and pulled out the diet soda he'd got for the boy.

"I got you a soda," he told Gary, holding the can out for him. Gary didn't take it though, he just looked at it without saying a word.

Kenny was starting to get upset. "Take it!" he said.

Gary didn't. "I can't drink soda," he told Kenny. "I'm Mormon."

Kenny was still holding out the can. "It's diet though."

Gary took a moment to respond. He almost looked sad for a second. "That doesn't make a difference."

Hurt, Kenny put the soda back in his bag. "I have to go home," he said, turning to leave.

"Are you gonna come by tomorrow?" Gary asked.

"Maybe," Kenny said before walking away from the bleachers. He didn't go back the next day though, or the day after that, or any of the other days he had detention. On Friday he met up with Craig Tucker after school and they went to the scrapyard to throw rocks at broken cars and he didn't talk to Gary again, even after he stopped wearing his denim jacket.


End file.
